Josh Barber

5 Prose Poems

Josh Barber lives in Philadelphia with his family and writes the poetry review A New Measure.

TRAIL OF BUGS

There’s this trail of bugs you can imagine if you look at the molding. The way 18 musicians sound driving west in the south, compared to Michigan in a snowstorm. I don’t know the difference in my body but I can dream of it. That trail of bugs you can imagine appraising dots of coffee drops become mocha, which streak when you scratch them, and the dust. To clean the floors, to make the floor weep coffee. The difference of 18 musicians, the only one way you can feel in your body I can only dream.

COWPOKE

The Buddha talks to everyone, you just have to listen for when the Buddha speaks. Everyone can be a Buddha in the temple, but can you be a cowpoke broke but free, switched from steak to beans, lonesome but happy, because anyone can be a Buddha in the temple but can you hear the Buddha when the Buddha speaks, can you be a cowpoke lonesome but happy, because everybody doesn’t have a dime in their old worn out jeans, and the Buddha talks to everyone if you listen for when the Buddha speaks.

MARCH MADNESS

The college basketball coach and his parents who come to every one of his games still. His father is kind of different, he looks like what you could imagine is the same age as his father. His leather hair his still sallow skin his shined hair is like sparkly leather. These are people who like going out, even though the father could just be the son I mean the son could just as well be the father, the way he looks like what you could imagine is the same age as his father.

METROPOLITAN

Charlton Heston on a horse, with a good-looking blonde riding with him, seeing the arm of the Statue of Liberty, thinking he had not been on earth. Mario Cuomo at the Arena, sitting up the beach on a beach chair, thinking should have gone before coming here, thinking all his friends are gone. Exhales mist of oceans, a structure at the end of the world. It’s like a whole new world extracted from the traffic of the old one, these walks of late are so secluded, so constructive, so—from one perspective—suppressive, a stranger on the outskirts at the end of his run. It would be such power to belong to that, the practice not any less at this moment unimaginable, not any less a reason to experiment with prose. Exhales vents of zones belonging in corners of the city much more like home. Walks of late are so secluded, so constructive, so—from one perspective—suppressive, a stranger on the outskirts at the end of his run. It would be such power to belong to that, the practice not any less at this moment unimaginable, not any less a reason to experiment with prose. Charlton Heston on a horse, he said, and Mario Cuomo at the end of his run, all alone.

HARE KRISHNA

Besides when they are eating the Hare Krishna band plays every day all day every day in Union Square. I meet them inside restriction, when I am looking for my cousin, when I meet them. When I meet them inside restriction, when I am looking for my cousin, I meet the Hare Krishna band—the Hare Krishna band that plays every day all day every day in Union Square besides when they are eating. Beside the Hare Krishna band, granite constancies of fountains, marble constancies of commas, anthems. Anthemic sound of sinning everything they don’t play, everything I don’t translate, of satisfaction found in not finding, first experiments in prose.

*

Sometimes the opposite is of sadness

of sadness produces liveness produces

sadness that entails

pear last long enough to be an encounter

hunger producing thighs…

bakery—a hunger’s striving

returns eyes to have a friend

stare in which the desire to defeat the stare was founded

again: the Hare Krishna band

*

Besides when they are eating the Hare Krishna band plays all day every day in Union Square when I meet them. I meet them inside restriction, when I am looking for my cousin, my cousin lives in Spain. First experiments in prose, I am longing for enjambment, to say nothing of translation, first experiments in prose. I meet the Hare Krishna band in my restriction, dream return to Arthur Ave. Life you cannot have muffled, rumbling inside. Beside granite constancies of fountains, marble constancies of commas, empty space. I meet the Hare Krishna band on Arthur Ave. with my cousin, besides when they are eating, my cousin is in Spain. All day every day all day, Hare Krishna. Furtive finishing of sin sound, finished eating before 5 PM.